You may think of Oprah Winfrey as a talk-show host, but, way before that, she is the world’s most influential self-improvement guru. Oprah’s mantra is Live My Best Life, and her mission is to get all of us to do just that by following a daily diet of expert advice, delivered via her media empire, which includes her show, radio station and O magazine. To see if it could be done, one fan spent a year following big O’s every edict and recording the results for a book called Living Oprah. On the eve of its publication, I’ve attempted the two-week, speed version, to see if her brand of self-improvement really can work.
Diet
So far, no worries. Aim to eat to satisfy my nutritional needs rather than my emotional ones. Oprah is very big on diet. Her own struggles with fluctuating weight are probably the single biggest reason for her connection with the women of America, and beyond. Naturally, Oprah expects that we start the new year by running off a Best Life Health Contract (I tried that, but it came out all exclamation marks and Zs, like a communication from the thing in the film Paranormal Activity). However, I’ve managed to memorise the following principles: commit to regular exercise, a minimum of 80 minutes’ activity spread over four days of the week. As I cycle to work, I am already up to 80 minutes a day. So far, no worries. Aim to eat to satisfy my nutritional needs rather than my emotional ones.
Oprah is big on this, but I don’t have a problem with comfort eating. If I need comfort, I mainly speed drink, so the next Oprah command is the one that will be testing for me. Do not drink. For four weeks. Without exception. This I am doing. And now I have that look Oprah gets when she has committed to the plan: slightly furrowed brow, tense jaw. During the day I have so much energy, I am wearing grooves in the floor, and at night I’m sleeping like a Calpol-dosed baby. I’m beginning to get why Jonathan Ross is always so perky.
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Oprah’s diet advice goes on. She recommends eating a piece of multigrain bread, spread with olive oil, before supper. (I am following this deliberate “dinner spoiler” and it is effective at spoiling dinner, though I seriously doubt it’s good for weight loss.) Oprah recommends eating antioxidant blueberries. (These cost about 10p each and are quite hard to find. I have to make a detour to Marks & Spencer.)
She also has a ton of recipes that she begs her fans to try. Tom Cruise’s spaghetti carbonara. Key lime pie. Oatmeal bars with spinach. Not for the last time I think Oprah is a bit pre-Jamie Oliver, and not merely in the culinary sense — wait until you see her fashion tips. I ignore these recipes and go for the mustard chicken. At least it’s not obviously fattening.
House and home
Oprah says use cloth bags. Easy. Using the book bag already. Oprah says switch from overhead lighting to lamps. Already on it. Oprah says: “Put stuff on the walls that becomes art once I hang it.” (She means that nothing finishes off a room quite like a Warhol, but she doesn’t want to sound too “woman who owns her own private jet”.) Never mind “stuff”, I have plenty of “art” that’s never made it onto the walls, because picture hanging is very stressful for the commitment- phobic. But Oprah is right. She has inspired me to take a lot of pictures to the framer’s, including some old ski posters from years ago.
Oprah says “add sea life” to rooms. Does she really mean rooms, plural? There is an embarrassment of sea life in my bathroom already, gathering dust and flecks of toothpaste. Reluctantly, I’ve spread it around a bit — a conch shell in the kitchen, a piece of coral in the TV room. I suspect she means arty driftwood sculptures, not shells you buy in net bags in Cornish tourist shops, but, weirdly, they do add a certain salty something.
That said, some of her suggestions are well-meaning but simply not helpful. “Add a fabulous chair to each room” is one. If we add a fabulous chair to the bedroom, we’ll have to do a parachute roll across the bed to get to the cupboards.
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“Frame important notes” is another. Naturally, Oprah has the kind of important notes that demand framing. “You are a true friend of the Democrats and an inspiration. Your loyal servant, Barack”; “Hey. How about dinner at mine? Seinfeld”. The only notes I have are along the lines of “Please do not persist in putting out your rubbish on the wrong day. Your neighbour”, so I’m disregarding this one. Sometimes with Oprah you have to “Just say no”, on the basis that it doesn’t translate for mere mortals. For example, Oprah says, in pursuit of our best life, we should buy a Kindle. And a focaccia maker. And a fire pit, whatever that is. Sometimes she forgets we’re not all multi-millionaire media moguls. And sometimes the stuff she suggests is just plain random.
Appearance
Oprah wants me to get rid of the stuff in my closet that “instantly ages” me. She’s so right about flesh-coloured tights, three-piece suits with vests, elastic-waist pants, sweaters appliquéd with bumble bees — but then, not even Ann Widdecombe has these parked at the back of her wardrobe. And no mention of the broderie anglaise smock, or the ultra-low-riding jeans.
Oprah’s 10 must-haves are similarly from a distant time, like the 1980s. Black, and white, turtleneck. White denim jacket. White shirt (must be crease-free). Hmm. Of the items I don’t possess (because I do have a little black dress, black turtleneck, dark jeans), the only one I can face investing in is a pair of leopard-print flats. I skip out of Office bearing the ones with the patent trim.
Relationships
To revitalise your relationship, Oprah recommends date nights. We’ve picked Tuesdays. But we’re not drinking, so they’re not going as well as they might. We stare blankly at each other in restaurants, panic ordering green tea and mindful nutritional foods, then I start making to-do lists.
Oprah also recommends expressing appreciation and gratitude — ideally, five times a day. For example, “I love your freckles” and “Thank you for taking out the trash”. This is surprisingly tough. If every other communication is “Your hair looks nice”, you sound like a deranged stalker and your partner suspects you’re on drugs. I get the point, though. Less nagging, more positive reinforcement. It’s a bit Surrendered Wife, but it definitely beats the Permanently Disappointed Wife I was channelling at Christmas.
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Moving on to the bedroom, Oprah says remove the television. (Doh! Ahead of you there, Oprah.) Redecorate the bedroom. Yes, I have ordered the curtains. Without consulting Him. Because the current redecoration of the bedroom and discussion thereof is top of the reasons we might end up having an argument, instead of sex.
Living LIKE Oprah — in conclusion
You can’t help but love Oprah. Some of her lifestyle advice feels dated, but she has a good eye for the things that genuinely hold us back (no silly lists on how to fold your towels, à la Anthea Turner), and merely being reminded to make an effort is worth more than a new gym membership.
Some of her self-help literature (A New Earth, by Eckhart Tolle, for example) is, surprisingly, worth a look. Plus, who can resist a list? (Just off to read Persuasion, one of Oprah’s “top five books to boost your mood”, or Under Milk Wood, also on the list.) That’s the other thing about Oprah — she can surprise you.